The Heels on the Catwalk
by TempestJo
Summary: A short story posted as a one-shot, Booth has some revelations while on a case..


He stared out the window of his new apartment glumly. It was nothing like his old one, the one with the leaky sink.. Not that he could remember how to fix the darn thing anyways. This one had a view of the fire escape.

He sighed and looked around the bare space. It wasn't much, but they had been unable to hold his old apartment, and this one was actually closer to work, and nicer inside. It was just the view.

And the curtains.

For whatever reason, the curtains only covered half the window. When they were closed, you could still see out the bottom half of the window.

Luckily nobody seemed to use the fire escape much, except the neighbor. She tiptoed past twice a day, in the most ridiculously high, and sexy heels, he'd ever seen.

Early in the morning. Late at night. Once going in. Once going out. He'd never seen her, only her feet. And he had to admit, she had very nice feet.

There was a noise to his left, and he turned his head, his eyes seeing the tousled hair of his supposed love.

"Go back to bed baby." He sighed. "I'll be right there."

It wasn't working, and he knew it. While he'd been gone, it had been fine, he could be with her, and forget, enjoy it for what it was. But now he was back, in DC, working with Bones.

And she haunted him at night.

This just wasn't working.

He stared out the window again, and went back to bed. She'd be wanting.. Well, she'd be wanting what she used to get. Less than she deserved. She was a nice girl.

His life was so screwed up.

CH2

He stood in front of the window.

It had become an obsession.

Every night, every morning, those heels.

The colour changed, the style changed.

But always high.. Always sexy..

He stood there, waiting.. He'd started leaving the curtains open. He wanted to see more. The girl attached to the shoes seemed oblivious. He'd never seen higher than her waist.

He checked the clock. She was late.

He felt the back of his neck prickle, and he started towards the window, opening the portion that allowed entrance to the stairs.

She was never late.

"Seeley honey, are you coming to bed?"

He tilted his head towards her voice, but didn't shift his eyes from the fire escape. "Yeah baby, in a minute."

"What is with you and that window?" She laughed.

He just shook his head. She didn't understand. He felt like he was missing something.

The shoes knew something he needed to know.

He didn't understand it, but his instincts knew, and they had never failed him before.

He checked his clock again.

The shoes were definately late.

A screach of metal came through the open window clearly, and at last he heard the patter of the heels, but something was wrong, the tempo was different, they were rushing.

A shout from a male, a wierd sound, and he held his hand out instincively, and the girl in the shoes rushed in through the window, nearly falling.

He grabbed her around the waist and shut the window with his shoulder, leaning back against the wall so whoever was thundering up the fire escape couldn't see them, her light blue eyes wide with a teasing grin.

"My hero" She whispered softly, her voice teasing. "Can you put me down?"

He stared down into eyes not unlike the ones he'd dreamed of for so long, then belatedly realised where his hands were, how tight he was holding her, and how his body was responding to the taught young body held tightly against his.

He blinked. "Are you.. I'm..." He shook his head.

She tilted her head to see out the window. "They've lost me, thanks." She whispered, her fingers sliding over his broad shoulders.

"Whats going on?" he finally managed.

This girl was younger than Bones. Her face was different. Her body was different. Her shoes were definately different.

But her colouring was almost the same, her straight bangs hanging into her eyes. Eyes that held answers.

"Do you know me?" he frowned, trying to remember.

Her eyebrow twitched and she smiled. "Yes and no." She purred, tilting her head back against the wall, and looking up at him. Even with her legs wrapped around his waist, she had to look up to see his face.

Her eyes left his and searched the ceiling, zeroing in on a nearly invisable hatch.

She leaned forward, her lips grazing his ear, "I need to get up there." She touched his jaw and turned his head so he could see.

He nodded. People were after her, they'd be coming back to check the window soon, this wasn't the time for questions, and his gun was too far away to demand answers.

He lifted her away from the wall and over to the hatch, where he repositioned his hands and shoved her up, his hand and her thigh, his other on her butt, and she moved the lid up and pulled her self through, turning just once toblow him a kiss before dropping the lid back in place.

A choking noise in the hallway allerted him to the fact he wasn't alone.

"Who was that Seeley?" Her voice was frosty, plainly she'd seen most of what had just happened.

He ran his hand down his shirt slowly, a slow smile growing on his face. "That was the girl next door."

"You were all over her." She accused.

He nodded softly, his mind going through every detail. A door in his mind opened, and he saw it.

A way out.

"Well, do you have anything to say for yourself?" She spat. "Any reason you had your hands, and your lips all over her?"

He raised an eyebrow and looked up at the hatch in the roof.

He hadn't kissed her. From the hall it must have looked like he had, his head was pressed to the girls neck. But this was his way out.

"I wanted to." He supplied softly, a manly smirk on his lips.

"You wanted to." Her voice was laced with derision. "I'm leaving Seeley. Don't call me."

He nodded.

Then shook his head.

"I won't."

He waited while she grabbed her few things, and then left, slamming the door on the way out, calling him some nasty names in the process.

He stood in the empty apartment, and stared out the window, and smiled the first true smile he'd had in weeks... Months.. A year...

He was free..

CH3

The club was hopping, a singer in a red dress was crooing into the mic and the man on the piano behind her seemed to effortless tickle the keys, the tables were full, and the drinks were flowing at a steady pace.

He guided her to the bar and settled them both in, signalling to the bartender for two glasses of wine.

"Booth, what are we doing here?" Brennan asked, leaning in. He looked great tonight, more relaxed than he had been in ages, his smile almost as cocky as his belt buckle.

He leaned towards her, as if to tell her a romantic nothing. "The undercover agent on that case I've been helping on is supposed to make contact tonight."

Brennan nodded and leaned in. "But why am I here?" She whispered. This was the first time he'd brought her with him to help on a case she wasn't involved in. "Why isn't.." Her voice faltered.

He patted her hand and raised his wine glass. "Thats all over Bones. And you make better cover anyways."

She frowned, "What does that mean?"

He wrapped his arm around her. "It means that you are so beautiful that noone is this room would ever suspect I'm here for anything other than a very romantic date."

"Oh." Brennan smiled. "Ok." She leaned in again. "Whats the signal?"

Booth shook his head. "Something about a bottle of wine."

"Do you think it's the bartender?"

Booth shook his head, no. "Dossier said female." He pasued. "Thats all I know."

The singer went on a break, and another woman stepped up to the mike, softly singing a popular melody.

Booth's neck pricked, and he turned his head, watching as the woman finished the song, then walked off the stage grasping an open bottle of wine. The woman wasn't drunk, but she swayed like Marylin Monroe along the top of the bar, in impossibly high heels, that he'd seen before. Halfway along the bar, a drunken hand reached out and grabbed her ankle, and a few exchanged words later, she gripped the neck of the bottle and swung, smashing it against the head of the man holding her leg.

He slumped down off the stool and she continued down the bar to stop in front of Booth and Brennan.

"Help me down?" She suggested coyly, and he stood, catching her waist in his hands again, and lowering her to the floor.

"Strong man you've got there." The girl smiled at Brennan, with a wink before pressing something into Booths hand and walking away and out of the bar.

Booth slid his hands into his pockets and sat back down, his mind working.

Despite the wig and the eye contacts.. His hands had known the truth and her shoes had refused to lie.

That was the Girl next door.

She'd had a wine bottle.

She'd slipped him something, which was now in his pocket.

Contact had been made.

Brennan leaned against him. "Was that her? She swung that bottle very similar to the way you swing a hockey stick."

He chuckled and leaned forward, his arm around her shoulders again. "I liked her shoes better than her swing."

Brennan looked at him puzzled. "What does that mean?"

He shook his head. "I don't know yet. But let's finish our wine and get out of here."

CH4

They walked out of the bar, arm in arm, chatting comfortably.

Booth smiled to himself.

THIS felt right. This night, this woman, the clear sky above them..

He felt fingers digging in his pocket and laughed, catching Brennan's fingers in his hand. "Leave it Bones, we may be being watched."

"But what does it say?" Brennan whispered. "Where are we supposed to go now?"

"My guess," He said in a low voice. "Is back to my house."

"Your place?" Brennan frowned, "Why?"

"Because I bet thats where she is." He said calmly. "Hopefully she's wearing clothes."

"Why wouldn't she be?" Brennan paused, in the act of getting into the SUV.

Booth shook his head ruefully... Caught thinking out loud!

"Because with shoes like those.. Well, you just never know." He replied in a teasing voice.

"I had no idea you were so into shoes." Brennan mused, buckling her seatbelt, looking down at her sedate Black pumps.

Booth started the engine. "You know, neither did I. But I think they're kind of like stripey socks... Unpredicable."

CH5

Booth unlocked the door and pushed it open slowly. There was no trace of the door being picked, but he doubted she'd have used the front door anyways, not when there was a passage through the ceiling.

He cast his eyes up and sure enough, the trap door was open.

A pair or ridiculously red spike heels were cast off on the floor in front of the door, and the smell of something cooking in the kitchen filled the room with a smell he hadn't smelt in years.

Brennan pushed her way into the room and glanced around.

She'd not been in his new place yet, it was bigger than the last one.

The last one didn't have a whole in the roof though.

Or red shoes on the floor.

Brennan watched as Booth walked towards the kitchen, shedding his coat. He was different still, from before.. But he was also the same, more like the Booth she'd first met, so long ago. More of a wild card.

He peeked into the kitchen and smiled. "Good you've got clothes on."

The girl in front of the stove rolled her eyes. "Of course, _Seeley_, you've got company!" She said sweetly, before bursting out in laughter at the look on his face. Her eyes twinkled. "I like this one much better." She winked.

Booth gave her a warning glance as Brennan walked into the room, and reached for the fridge. "Wine with that?"

"Mmm, please." The girl nodded.

"How did you know where Booth lives?" Brennan asked with a frown.

"I didn't." The girl shrugged, "We just met yesterday." She waved at the wall. "I live over there." She paused. "For now."

Booth paused in the act of filling three wine glasses. "What do you mean?"

"Once this case is over I'm moving on, transfer to international." Her eyes met his and the message passed between them like an electric shock.

Booth nodded and went to close the curtains in the living room and make sure the door was locked. She meant it was getting too hot, she'd be bringing down too many when this case closed, she'd be shipped out to France somewhere to live quietly for a few years.

"Whats this case about?" Brennan asked, "What's your name?"

The girl just shook her head. "This case is going to blow, in the next week. You can't know me."

A ding came from the oven, and she bent and pulled out a steaming, bubbling tray of lasanga, setting it on the stove. She waved at the steam a little, and then pulled out the plates. "Let's eat."

CH6

The next few weeks passed in a blur of high heels and night meetings, and cases and lunches with Bones and the squints.

Only Bones knew he was working two cases.

Only Bones, who cast glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking, who spent a lot more time studying her shoes lately, watching to see if he paid attention to anyone elses shoes.

She was quieter now, than she has been before they left, before he came back with someone else on his arm.

He had no idea if Hannah had contacted Bones in her rage, or if she had merely disappeared off the radar completely.

He wondered idly what Bones thought of him now?

A cool hand slid across his brow, and he smiled. "I heard you coming up the fire escape."

"I think it's tonight. Are you up for it?" the girl asked. "You've not been getting much sleep lately, have you?"

Booth opened his eyes and sat up on the couch. "Of course I'm up for it."

She stood before him in purple heels, and the shortest purple dress he'd ever seen.

He raised an eyebrow.

She smiled. "It's a lesson for you."

"What do you mean?"

She tapped the side of his head. "Sometimes," she whispered, "You have to use your brain, AND your assets, to get what you want."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She smiled at him, and ran her hand down his chest slowly, before flicking her finger up and catching him on the nose with it. "You spend all day long, trying to be as smart as those squints, trying to prove you're enough.. You don't use the tool that you've got that they don't, do you? The tools you use at night..This one." She touched the corner of his mouth gently. "And this one." She ran her hand over his shoulder. "You could get her, if you used both."

His lips twitched. "Are you advising me to use my body to get what I want?"

She smiled and stepped back, going over to the window, and crawling through.

He watched as the purple heels walked past the window and disappeared down the stairs. She was right. He'd seen it again and again, every night. She cajoled and pouted and outsmarted every foe she came across, all with the help of that body and those shoes, and none of them had any idea what had happened, they wouldn't know till their walls came crashing down around them.

Some nights he had no idea where she even had the mike, or how the wire managed to be invisible while every curve showed in the clingy dresses and gowns befitting a mob favourite.

He'd watched, from the shadows of the bar, ready to pull her out to safety, as she entranced them all, and promised them nothing.

He stared down at his hands, feeling her hand as it had run down his chest, her finger as it had touched his lips. She could have had him, if she'd wanted, but for some reason, the only thing she'd ever let him see in her eyes was the truth of what he should be, and the truth of what he'd allowed himself to become.

Her eyes told him what he could be.

And she was right. For all his words and his hours at the shooting range or in Gordon Gordon's chair, he'd never really tried to get Brennan.

He wondered why.

That night, like the rest, passed in a blur, but ended differently.

The last piece of information was collected, and the noose was tightened, and the FBI had swept in and cleaned up the mess, tidily . Efficiently.

The case was closed.

The next morning, the heels went by the window, one last time, and he knew it was good-bye.

She was out of the country by the time he got in to work at the Hoover.

Accross town, Brennan sat on her couch in her office, a package in her hands.

She opened it gently.

Curiously.

A sky high pair of deep blue heels sat before her.

Her size.

There was a note.

"Wear them if you dare, you won't be disappointed."

Brennan sniffed.

If she dared.

Of course she dared. They were just a pair of shoes.

Resolutely, she pulled off her black pumps and put the blue shoes on, standing carefully.

Not bad.

Expertly designed in fact.

She walked around the room, and then the hairs on the back of her neck pricked, and she turned to see Seeley Booth leaning in the doorway, his eyes on her feet.

The smile on his face was like nothing she had ever seen before.

And in his eyes, she saw the truth.

She was good enough.

He wanted her, and he was going to pull out all the stops.

The charm was already oozing off him, and he hadn't even stepped in the room.

She also saw one other thing.

He really liked her shoes.

THE END


End file.
